This Isn't Me
by Cheap Indifference
Summary: He is a lot tougher then what people give him credit for.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

**A/N: This is one my presents to my BFFL aero. It's late but you know I essayed for 3 days straight there… so it doesn't really count. Yeah. Happy Birthday! I hope you like it!**

**xxx**

**August 22, 1966**

For once in your entire life you had absolutely nothing to be happy about. It was ridiculous that people still expected you to smile, be the person you always have been. Happy go-lucky, all smiles Sodapop Curtis. Even Two-Bit couldn't think of a wise crack to change your mood. Everything was going wrong and there just wasn't anything to be fucking cheerful about anymore.

Your kid brother was missing and you had no idea what to do with yourself. You didn't know what day it was, you lost track, everything was just falling like dominoes and you weren't strong enough to stop it; they just kept collapsing over one another and it was never ending.

If you lost him, if you lost anyone else… you didn't think that you were tough enough to go through that. Not again. Sitting on the living room couch, you remembered the last time you had both of your brothers with you. It was late, maybe Darry had over reacted, hell, you knew he had but you would have sworn Ponyboy would be back that night. Maybe you should have gone after him.

You were his big brother and you should have done something, anything. And now you were stuck in this house that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller with each second. It was full of memories that were caving in on you, and you felt trapped.

There was no one you could talk to either. You were never the type to hide what you were feeling. You had brothers to talk to, to guide you; they were your best friends, and the only family you had left. And there you were sitting on the couch that so many people had crashed on when the nights got cold, alone, nearly pulling out your hair because the house was empty and so fucking small.

Darry had been working non-stop. Maybe out of guilt or the way your eyes blamed him every time you looked at him. But you were sure the house felt small for him too, especially with the both of you in it. Dinner was quiet and even when Two-Bit and Steve stopped by there was no laughter or jokes, nothing.

Dallas didn't come by since everything had happened; you weren't stupid. You knew he was involved, he knew where your brother was. He thought it was okay for to keep him away; it made your blood boil. To lie and say he didn't know what hell you were talking about and that you were fucking crazy. Dallas was just helping his friends, and as much as he says he doesn't give a damn about anyone, you know that it's a crock.

Even so, a couple days ago, the last time he came by, there was no way of you holding back. You had the black eye to prove it. A couple of punches were thrown before the guys were at their feet. Darry had always been good at talking Dallas down and he had left before you could get out of Two-Bit's and Steve's grip.

Dallas wasn't mad, or maybe he was but he understood. Took you out for a drink that night and that's when you gave him the note that you prayed Pony would get. If you knew Dallas as well as you thought, he'd get it.

You didn't even have Sandy, though you weren't sure how much you even wanted her anymore. But you were close; hell you were going to marry her. Maybe, you missed her. She was smart, funny; she listened and understood. You loved her but feeling wasn't mutual like you thought it had been. She had gone off with how many other guys, you weren't sure. She had told you one. And now her parents were sending her to Florida because she wasn't as smart as you thought she was and got knocked up. Steve said that you had the right to be so bitter and angry but you still felt bad, about everything. Dallas said you were just too nice.

Truly believing that you had found what mom and dad had had. And having it taken away, ripped away from you… there was nothing else to feel but lost.

Glancing up from your spot on the couch, untangling your fists from your hair, you almost glare at the pictures hanging beside the television. Pictures of your parents, your family, when things were normal. If you still had your parents, they'd know what to do, what to say because they always did.

You missed them so much, sometimes you felt bad for smiling because the world just wasn't right without them. Everything would be different, none of this would be happening. You felt the need to blame them because there was just no one else to blame anymore and you had to blame someone.

There was a heavy feeling in your chest, more then anger and sadness. Your heart was beating in your ears; the sound alone was enough to drive you completely crazy. Your breaths were short and you couldn't see straight anymore. Gripping the glass of water that was on the table, you tried taking a sip.

Your vision was starting to blur, you were fucking sick and tired of crying, it made you feel weak. Throwing your drink at those pictures, you kicked the coffee table until it toppled over. You walked towards those stupid pictures and ripped off the rabbit ears off of the T.V before tearing each picture off the wall. Listening to them smash against the floor, not caring if shards of glass made it into your feet.

"Soda?" The screen door slammed shut; somehow you managed to slide down to your knees.

Looking up there was Steve and you didn't bother explaining, or getting up, or wiping away the tears that you couldn't hold back anymore.

Did you work today? Steve was in his uniform. Was it Monday or Tuesday? Everything was blending into one big horrible event of barely eating and no sleep, you honestly couldn't remember.

Steve stepped around the couch and carefully grabbed onto the coffee table, sitting it up right. Staring blankly at what was in front of you, Steve knelt down beside you, glass crunching under his shoes as he started picking out the pictures from the broken glass and frames. You knew you would have hated yourself if you had ended up ruining those pictures.

He slowly got up and patted your shoulder before setting the few things you had left of your parents on top of the T.V.

You never got this mad; usually you were the voice of reason. Calming down Steve or Two-Bit… mostly Dallas. Everything was happening at once and none of it was good. All the other things seemed small compared to right now. The fights, cars, the Soc's, worrying about money and bills… none of it really mattered.

"Ya think he'll be okay?" you asked Steve, glancing at him. He sat up against the wall beside you and nodded.

"I mean, he's a Curtis," he said.

Resting your head against the wall you thought about what he said. He had to be okay because this family couldn't take any more death. He was only fourteen but he was smart. He wasn't like every other kid. He was your brother.

"Yeah."

He'd come back. He'd come back because he had to.

**xxx**

**Reviews are lovely. Mistakes are human, point them out if you spot them.**


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